


Last Words

by NumptyPylon



Series: Post-Through the Moon Rayllum [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Introspection, THROUGH THE MOON SPOILERS, Through the Moon, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NumptyPylon/pseuds/NumptyPylon
Summary: A look inside Callum's head, the morning after the end of 'Through the Moon'CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE COMIC
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Post-Through the Moon Rayllum [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955287
Comments: 53
Kudos: 86





	Last Words

**Author's Note:**

> # CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF THROUGH THE MOON!
> 
> Okay, now that that's out of the way, hope you enjoy this little fic I had to write because my feelings said so...

  


Callum was awoken by too-bright sunlight, squarely in his eyes.

He groaned, turning his face into the pillow. It had been kind of a… day. And night.

Rayla was… well, they had made up, but damnit. The hair-trigger for self-sacrifice was just… a lot, sometimes. And she wasn’t even next to him to cuddle, to reassure himself she was still here and not caught in that world beyond the portal, because they shared the room with Ezran and they had an _agreement_ about that.

He sat up, because he wanted to go touch her _now_. The image of her slipping under the surface of that beautiful, shining, horrible water was still too close to the surface.

But her bed was empty, which was a relief, at first, because maybe she had slept better than usual and gotten up early?

Then he saw the scroll. The bed made; the sheets tucked in.

He had to clamp down on an instinctive and very _bad_ feeling, because his head tended to take him for a ride without knowing all the facts and there could be… lots of reasons for this.

No.

There really couldn’t.

She occasionally left him a note on a scrap of paper, but this was different and final and horrible.

If she had just gone to… water the moon lilies or something… she wouldn’t have left a scroll, all rolled up tidy. This was _wrong._ He stared at the neatly made bed, the lone feather, the scroll…

Though _this_ scroll was unsealed, some horrible dread threatened to choke him, because it was too horribly familiar… too close another scroll that had contained his father’s last words.

No.

This was _not_ like that.

These weren’t the last words she would ever say to him, that was ridiculous _._

He willed his head, on the edge of panic, to hold onto that thought, that it was _ridiculous._

His unconvinced heart thundered against his ribcage.

His unconvinced hands shook when he unrolled the scroll.

Dearest Callum,

Too formal.

I love you.

No.

I’m so sorry, I can’t drag you into-

NO!

I’ve gone to find answers-

She wouldn’t _find_ answers, or maybe she would, if she was insanely lucky, but she would _definitely_ find loneliness and despair and danger and hardship. Alone. And alone was in that train of thought twice, because he really couldn’t reiterate enough how much he did _not_ want her alone and-

A drop of liquid hit the letter.

His shaking hands crushed the edges of it.

Part of the feelings welling up inside him was _anger._ She had _lied_ to him. And left him. He had shouted in her face after the battle at the Storm Spire, he had made it very, _very_ clear how it felt when she jumped off cliffs alone and _she kept doing it!_

The full truth. They had agreed, and she had still lied, and left.

He placed the letter back down on the bed, weirdly numb.

His seething angry head wanted to tear it up, but his terrified heart wanted to keep what might be-

_The last words she would ever say to him._

He squashed that thought, because it was _ridiculous._ Destiny was a book you wrote yourself, and hers wouldn’t be a story of sacrifice, he would make damn sure of that. He had twice, and would again.

He left the rest of the letter unread, wiping his wet cheeks roughly.

It didn’t matter what it said. If he found her, then she was there to yell at and that letter didn’t matter so much. And if he didn’t… he would regret tearing up her last words, regardless of how angry he was right now.

He could be angry at her and still love her.

He needed… a full breath.

And _focus_.

 _Enough_ focus, at least.

 _Head_. Spinning. Dizzy. It cleared with a proper deep breath. Ibis had taught him, and he was good at breathing, really.

“Manis.”

 _Hand_. Angry clenched fists. He released them, and the anger seemed to fizzle too. It wasn’t important now, it was important insofar as it let him stand up straight, and not waste time bawling.

“Pluma.”

 _Heart_. Love. Still. And he would find her and tell her that, _after_ he told her some other choice words.

“Volantis.”


End file.
